Rescue
by Late2SGA
Summary: The Jumper crashes after being disabled in an ambush. The Team must find a way off the planet and must eliminate the enemy's advance guard before others arrive...and before the Team's own backup encounters the same trap. Takes place S2, between The Hive and Critical Mass. Team fic. The Team plus Caldwell.


~ Rescue ~

An Author's Note follows the story.

Word Count: 7758

Characters: Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, Caldwell. Brief appearances by Lorne and Zelenka.

Rating: K+/T- ... for several brief scenes of close combat with deadly intent.

Warning: General references to events in The Hive and Aurora.

Disclaimer: 'Stargate Atlantis' and its characters are not mine. I would not have left them under the aegis of those whose interest lay elsewhere.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"Everybody okay?" John Sheppard swept his gaze around the Jumper cockpit. He received a trio of reassuring nods; his team had apparently weathered the crash without serious consequences. Ronon ran his fingers over his forehead to wipe blood from his brow, but he met John's glance and nodded again.

"McKay, what's the damage?" John ordered the report, then pulled himself stiffly out of the seat and ducked to avoid some hanging wires. He paused to direct a frank look at Teyla, who shook her head in answer to the unasked question. John grabbed the first-aid kit. As he headed into the rear compartment he motioned to Ronon to follow him.

Rodney was already pushing buttons and tapping keys on several devices. "Whatever they hit us with knocked our systems offline. I don't know how long it will take to get them back or even if it's possible in these conditions. We're lucky the inertial dampeners held." He jerked as a spark arced from the console.

"So, fifteen minutes?" John guessed.

McKay raged while still tapping keys. "I know you think I'm always exaggerating but I can't undo a cascade failure in your arbitrarily assigned timeline! Nearly all the systems are offline and we have no power! I can't re-route from secondary to primary because nothing works! Each system has to be reassigned individually. You already know propulsion is gone and steering. Communications are out, so we can't contact Atlantis. Sensors are down, which means we won't be able to tell when the Daedalus gets here." He continued to type and touch the laptop screen. "Life support is online, for all the good that'll do us."

John hit the hydraulic hatch release. He sent Ronon to stomp through the thick vegetation and sloppy water to make a full visual inspection of the craft. The floor suddenly moved.

"What was that?!" Rodney cried.

"Jumper's shifting. It's still settling." John opened the first-aid kit and laid it on a bench. "What about the cloak?" he called.

"Even if I can get it to work, we can't use it; the Daedalus won't be able to find us," McKay argued while typing.

John asked again, slowly and firmly, "Can you raise enough power to activate the cloak?" He sprinkled powder on his wound. He'd acquired quite a gash from impact with the console. A coagulating agent would help, but he needed stitches.

"You mean 'raise' like in a seance?!" Rodney snarked. He tapped more keys. "The cloak doesn't require much power, unlike a shield, but I don't have a way to- I could- Maybe-"

John moved to the cockpit doorway. "Cloak most of the roof. As if we sustained a lot of upper damage."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it." John turned to Teyla, "Anything?", and she shook her head. Ronon returned and verified the Jumper was physically sound. Good to know that given time they could probably fly out, but not a solution to their immediate problem.

"At least with no power they can't trace the Jumper," McKay muttered while furiously typing.

"They don't need to trace, they can see us. I barely managed to prevent us from dropping like a stone; we left a path a mile wide." John began wrapping a bandage around his forearm.

"This was supposed to be a simple, non-harrowing trip to recover Technology. With nothing but a handscanner we'll never find the signal source before they do," Rodney lamented.

"There is no source," John answered without looking. He instructed Ronon to remove items from the overhead mesh.

"What?" McKay stopped typing.

"It was a trap, Rodney. The Wraith sent the signal."

"Wraith sent the signal?" Rodney sounded dejected. John knew how much the man had counted on investigating what they all had hoped was some miracle facility with an Ancient signature. "Are you sure?" McKay questioned in a small voice.

John tied off the bandage. "We were ambushed by Darts, Rodney. Spacegate, no people on the planet, yet they were waiting when we arrived. So, yeah, I'm pretty sure." John sent a questioning look at Teyla.

Teyla nodded in confirmation. "We do not have much time."

John realized McKay was gaping, not working. "Hide the roof, Rodney. You can work on fixing other stuff later. ...McKay!" John stared steadily until Rodney began typing. "Ronon, get up top. Any and all weapons." He signed to Teyla to assist in the rear compartment. "Teyla, the first-aid kit and anything marked 'Atlantis'. Hurry, you two. Up top."

John stayed at McKay's back until the Jumper ceiling shimmered and disappeared. "Good work, buddy. Now, grab whatever you'll need to keep working on the problem."

In somewhat of a dazed panic McKay hurriedly gathered his computer, tablet, a handscanner and his tool pack. "You do realize the cloak will encompass a lot more than the roof."

"It'll look like the crash took out more of the tree canopy. C'mon." John ushered Rodney out the back of the vessel and handed the equipment up to Ronon. The big man then reached down and helped McKay scramble up top while John pushed from below. As Ronon pulled and shifted backward, he disappeared, and then McKay, legs flopping, entered the cloak. John waited for Ronon to reach for him before he started to climb.

John barely had a toehold on a horizontal ridge running the length of the Jumper's side when Teyla's voice hissed, "John!" Ronon ceased his movement, which left John literally dangling; his arm, held fast in Ronon's grip, was the only part of him that was inside the cloak. John waited. And then he heard the heavy steps approaching through the foliage.

Ronon's other hand appeared from nowhere and the fingers waggled. John grasped the hand and then he was being pulled slowly upward, his t-shirt sliding easily over the little ship's hull. His gun belt snagged at each cleft, but John dared not add the strength of his legs to the climb for fear his boots would noisily scrape the metal skin.

The snap and thud of vegetation being crushed was loud and coming closer. John crossed the veil. He could see Ronon, seated, heels braced in a crevice. He was pulling John toward him through the gap between his own boots as he leaned back and straightened his legs like an oarsman. John's legs were still partially hanging below the invisibility divide when the Drone stepped into the area of flattened growth caused by the Jumper's less-than-controlled descent. Teyla signaled to John. He turned on his hip and pulled his knees upward to bring his feet near the cloak boundary. She reached for his legs, just as the Jumper pitched to the side. John freed one hand but was too late; Teyla would have taken a header off the roof if McKay hadn't grabbed her waist to prevent her from overbalancing. As John swung by his arm like a pendulum in Ronon's grasp he felt the pull and tear under the bandage. He lifted his legs again and Teyla reached through the field to grab hold of his ankles. She pulled his legs inside the cloak. John waited, his hands held by Ronon, his feet on Teyla's lap. His forearm was bleeding badly. Blood trickled to his elbow and dripped, visibly, to the ground.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

The Drone took one step onto the ramp, paused, looked around, looked up. John glanced at Teyla, who was so still she seemed to be frozen. The Wraith headed up the ramp and disappeared in the Ancient ship. John heard footsteps passing below, moving toward the cockpit. There were sounds of shuffling and objects crashing to the floor. The Drone reappeared. It exited the Jumper and trudged into the thick trees and marshy groundcover. The team sat motionless until Teyla gave the all-clear sign.

"Why did we let it get away?" Rodney wanted to know.

"To communicate to the others the Jumper's empty," John explained. He settled on the roof and opened the first-aid kit.

"Others?" McKay queried. "I thought you got the other Darts. Were there more than three?"

"Darts can carry at least a half-dozen in storage," Ronon supplied. "With the pilot, that's a possible seven Drones or more."

Teyla nodded. "There are several and I sense more may be expected. They will want to contact a Hive."

John was re-bandaging his arm. "Not if I can help it."

"Why more?" McKay asked. "We're not much to feed on."

John tied off the new bandage before answering. "This isn't about feeding." He stood and began to divide up the weapons.

McKay's eyes opened wide. "You mean Atlantis? How would they know?" John stilled, straightened, looked Rodney in the eye. McKay swallowed. "Do you think you let something slip?"

John considered his recent encounter with a Queen. He hadn't tried to keep his mind focused on a single problem in the hope of keeping her out, he'd drawn to the fore an index of memories and ideas meant to confound the ordered instinct of a bug: pet rocks, a Three Stooges marathon, pie-throwing contests, gelatin wrestling, Mr. Potato Head, a mug-shot of every Batman villain from the 1960s tv show. He bounced around, to distract himself from the pain that lanced his skull and tore at every muscle so that it hurt even to breathe and had brought him to his knees at the Queen's command. It was possible she glimpsed something.

McKay shook his head. "The Queen may have sent some kind of message before the Hives were destroyed," he theorized, "but not about Atlantis. There's been plenty of time in the last few weeks for a Wraith armada to come and check on us."

"I do not believe she would have contacted all Wraith," Teyla said thoughtfully. "We know they are territorial. They form alliances, yet I sensed uneasy cooperation. Her message would have been only to another ally, not the general population."

"So, what's the objective here?" Ronon asked.

John leveled his gaze. "Hyperdrive."

"The Daedalus," Rodney agreed. "If they believe Atlantis is gone, the Daedalus is their only way to Earth." He snapped his fingers repeatedly. "The ally receives a message, saying that humans from Earth may still be in Pegasus. It makes sense. Even without Atlantis we'd still be interested in the Ancients; we'd stick around by settling on another planet. So, the ally fakes an Ancient signal because she hopes we'll check it out. She sends a few Darts through the Gate to hide and inform her if we arrive." He paused and said tensely, "A Hive could be on the way."

Teyla disagreed. "I believe only a Queen, alone, has the ability to send a message across great distances. The pilot on its own could not have done it. And since their release from storage, the Drones have been searching, not grouping to communicate."

"A Hive or Cruiser could be here anytime," McKay insisted. "The Darts may have missed a scheduled check-in."

"Could be," John admitted, "but look around, Rodney. Maybe no alligators, but this planet is a swamp." He pulled on his jacket. "Not a lot of places to land. Even for a Dart. This was a long-shot. No Hive or Cruiser would wait around for weeks or months on the off-chance we'd show up. I don't think it's a top priority so the Drones aren't in any hurry." He zipped up his tac vest. "And I don't think they were expecting a Jumper."

"What do you mean?" McKay inquired.

John climbed down to the ground and gestured at Ronon. "If they believe Atlantis is gone, her Jumpers would be destroyed, too. I think the Darts were just supposed to keep an eye out for the Daedalus and let the Queen know. We arrived instead and now they have to keep us from leaving."

"Bait," Ronon confirmed, as he dropped silently to the marshy ground. "To draw the Daedalus."

"I believe you are correct, John, that the Drones have no specific instruction where we are concerned. They have limited intelligence," Teyla stated, "and are controlled by other Wraith. I sense they are acting out of instinct, not an ordered plan."

"They'll eventually need supervision. We have a small window." John looked up to address Rodney's half-visible form. "You think you can get any power at all?"

"If you're looking for an arbitrary time to fit your window, I don't have one," McKay replied testily. "I don't know what's wrong, so I don't know how to fix it. I'll have to look at each system separately and even then, no promises."

John spoke to Ronon, who had been studying the ground along the Drone's arrival path. "The Dart'll have power."

"What?!" Rodney exclaimed. "You're talking apples and oranges! This is not fruit salad! The power sources are not the same, the interfaces are not the same, the Dart requires a partial bio-tech connection which would be totally rejected by the Tech of the Jumper! Which is the whole point of the Ancient gene!"

John was adjusting his gear but paused to respond to McKay with an even tone. "The Dart can dial the Gate. If you can't get systems online, we may have to abandon the Jumper, at least temporarily. We missed our own check-in. More Jumpers arriving through the Gate would confirm that Atlantis still exists. And I don't want the Daedalus coming here and leaving a hyperspace trail." He checked his watch. "We have to hurry."

"You're leaving?"

John heard the note of panic. "Rodney, you'll be fine. Just be quiet. Drones have no special sense of smell and you can't be seen. They think the Jumper's empty, but Teyla will know if any of them return." John looked at Teyla, who nodded, fully aware of her assignment, then she pulled McKay back behind the boundary and they both disappeared.

John met Ronon's gaze. "You lead, Big Guy."

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

Colonel Steven Caldwell sat comfortably in his seat on the Daedalus. The perspective from the command chair was impressive, although the view in hyperspace was limited and unchanging.

The Daedalus was a fine ship. Certainly not anything he ever could have imagined when he began his military career decades earlier. He wouldn't have imagined himself as an intergalactic long-haul driver, either, but his current command was to make supply runs between Earth and the Lantean city. His official position was to provide support for the Ancient outpost. After two days of unloading cargo in Atlantis he'd left part of his crew in the city for well-deserved rest while he took a scientific expedition on a relatively short jaunt across Pegasus. His heart quickened. If what the Atlantis science team had projected at the morning briefing turned out to be true, the trip could be the first step in recovering Ancient technology that would help not only in the fight against the Wraith, but in the Milky Way battle against the Goa'uld. Caldwell had gladly agreed to the request to ferry the science and military teams needed for such an investigation.

Caldwell had a personal reason for genially offering his assistance ~ he wanted to preserve his current relationship with Elizabeth Weir. After a somewhat contentious past they had reached neutral ground. Recently he'd been instrumental in saving Atlantis personnel, which he believed had helped override her earlier antagonism. He knew he'd made mistakes. Assisting quietly in the background was another opportunity to show Weir he could be a team player. Their meetings still held an underlying power struggle, a reflection of their vastly differing views. His professional opinion was that Atlantis, due to the city's role in the galaxy and its connection to Earth, needed stricter military order. Weir, however, was defensive of her military commander; she'd made certain he held the post by politely strong-arming the brass into promoting him to the requisite rank. Caldwell knew the two were close. Bonds were formed when the Expedition members stepped into the unknown and subsequently faced unimaginable dangers. Those bonds made Caldwell an outsider.

"Sir, we're receiving a subspace burst from Atlantis."

Caldwell acknowledged the statement and waited for the message to be decompressed.

"They've lost contact with Colonel Sheppard. His team didn't check in after arrival and they're not answering hails."

"Let's push it," Caldwell responded. "This may now be a rescue mission." Not that he was surprised ~ John Sheppard attracted trouble like no one else he'd ever known.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John followed Ronon, stepping carefully on the imprints left by the big man's boots. Behind them came the sound of a heavy weight shifting and McKay's hushed whimper.

Ronon swept aside hanging branches. "How long do you figure it'll take before McKay realizes he's sinking?"

"I plan to be back before his feet get wet. Teyla will keep him distracted. I hope."

"Will he be able to fix the Jumper?"

"Eventually." John had no doubt of McKay's ability, but they had little time. John kept his eye on the LSD as they made their way through dense foliage. Ronon needed no technological assistance; the guy had a sixth sense about a Wraith's location. Maybe he could see around corners or through the curtain of drooping greenery that looked like short, squat weeping willows. Flying over the landscape John had been reminded somewhat of The Everglades as he'd headed for what he'd hoped was solid ground.

"I know these trees. The way they grow, there's no real solid ground in this area, just tangled tree roots." Ronon placed his feet carefully, walking along exposed roots. "There'll be clear waterways nearby, with nothing but floating vines." He stopped, ducked, and lowered his voice. "Drones don't float."

At Ronon's gesture John halted. He maintained position as his teammate stealthily followed his target. John watched the action unfold from a distance by monitoring the LSD and periodically checking Ronon's progress visually. The big man was quiet and he was quick. Approaching in the Drone's blindspot he grabbed the face mask and slid his knife across the exposed throat. The stroke was made with such force that there was partial severance. To make the act irreversible Ronon shoved the body face-down into the watery groundcover. The dot on the screen had disappeared, but there were still six more.

Ronon gestured again and motioned John closer. Before John arrived, Ronon signaled again and so John waited, again, and watched another dot disappear from the LSD. John had thought he could imagine what Ronon had been through in seven years as a Runner. After observing the cold expertise that had been acquired as a survival skill, John knew he did not have and could never have even an inkling of what the man had experienced.

Ronon crouched by a tree and hacked a small branch from the trunk. His next prey made only a gurgle as it succumbed to the sharpened wooden point that was thrown with precision. As before, Ronon made certain regeneration was not possible.

John simply followed his teammate as the former Runner cleared the field. There was an eerie similarity to Earth vampire lore in the manner of dispatching the enemy, as if all 'blood suckers' required additional measures to be dead with finality.

Eventually the back of the Dart became visible amid the snarl of tree branches. As John drew near he could see the nose of the ship was disappearing in the web of roots and wet grasses. John gingerly waded into the mire, barely maintaining his balance on unstable ground. He tugged at the restricting branches. The Dart was listing in such a way he couldn't reach the canopy release.

John saw Ronon's urgent signal and halted his activity. Something tickled his leg, the only warning before he was dragged into the morass. Branches and weeds and mud pulled at him. Whatever-it-was had hold of his leg and was squeezing, drawing him downward. John grabbed at tree roots, which flexed like endless ropes and offered no purchase. He was going under. A large hand grabbed him by the scruff of his tac vest and hauled him upward. As John leaned over a low branch and gasped for breath, Ronon unwound a large snake from around John's leg.

"Stay here." Ronon's command was unnecessary; all John wanted was air and to remove the mud from between his teeth.

John turned his head to watch Ronon jump from root to root, holding the snake high to keep it from snagging in the bog. The big man slowed and John had to change his position to observe what happened. Ronon approached from behind and threw the snake at the Wraith. The Drone made a mournful howl as the snake wrapped itself around the white hair and slid under the face mask. There was a quick movement, then snake and Wraith fell into the marsh. The Drone howled again, hands grasping upward, as snake and the final Wraith vanished.

"That was different," John commented when Ronon returned.

"Even Wraith have natural enemies," Ronon explained.

"Snakes eat bugs?" John suggested. Something to remember, although keeping such a snake for such a purpose wasn't practical. John turned to the sinking Dart. "Let's do this."

Ronon reached into the marsh to grip the nose of the Dart. He twisted the craft slightly and held the ship steady. John eased along the runner to feel for the release button. Teyla's voice crackled. John felt for his earbud, realized it was lost, and that his radio was soggy and cutting in-and-out. He looked at Ronon.

"More Wraith. Several Darts at least," Ronon responded.

"Crap. We're outta time." John gestured at Ronon. "Ready?" John slid farther along the runner. He found the release button and the Dart canopy dissolved.

John sighed. He supposed it was like riding a bike. A bike with no view and with instructions in chicken scratch. He felt a brief claustrophobic pause when the canopy closed around him. He keyed his radio. "Can you hear me? Go back to the Jumper."

Being inside the Dart was familiar yet strange. John powered up the ship and flew a path just above the bog. According to the heads-up display six more Darts had come through the Gate and were already in atmosphere. John kept the ship low, flying away from the Jumper until the Darts passed overhead. He bolted for the Gate, hoping his radio worked and that Atlantis would understand a carrier signal of Wraith origin.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

"Sir, we're receiving another transmission from Atlantis."

A stillness followed the announcement. The Daedalus bridge was almost crowded. Major Lorne stood by the command chair at Caldwell's shoulder while his two teams, along with Dr. Zelenka and the science teams, were all standing nearby, trying to remain out of the way and inconspicuous. The Atlantis personnel had come as a single group to the bridge when they'd learned Sheppard's team might be in trouble.

"The Daedalus is not to approach the planet. We are to head to the given coordinates and wait. They don't know for how long."

Caldwell took a moment. They were less than an hour away from their destination. "Do they say why?"

"Colonel Sheppard sent the original message. No Jumpers should be sent and the Daedalus should wait. They have no further information."

With a slight shake of his head Caldwell ordered the Daedalus to drop out of hyperspace to input the new coordinates. He admitted to some slight frustration. The problem with being a team player for the Pegasus base was that the game was never played by any rules. He considered Sheppard to be a loose cannon, unconventional and cocky, yet he sensed the relief in the Atlantis crew upon hearing the communication; there was no second-guessing on their part about being told to wait.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John checked his watch ~ thirty-eight minutes and counting. If his message got through, Atlantis was holding the Gate open and had the shield in place, and the Daedalus had redirected to the rendezvous coordinates. John was pretty sure a Hive or Cruiser was on the way, but no more Wraith could come through the Gate. At least not for the next thirty-seven minutes.

The Dart raced toward the planet. John had to hit two or three buttons to adjust the HUD to include life signs, not just ships. The six Darts had split up to cover ground. Two were over near the Jumper, skimming over the trees, and one had released its Drones; several dots had surrounded a central figure. John dove over the group and scooped up everyone, then guided his ship low over open water to release the cargo. He knew Ronon was okay when one dot moved purposefully toward the marshy landscape, leaving the other dots to vanish one-by-one from the HUD.

John circled back to fire on the first Dart, then went after the second, which passed over the Jumper and left behind a batch of Drones. A moment later John beamed the Drones into storage and continued to pursue the second Dart. The first kill-shot had been direct and easy because it was unexpected, but the second pilot tried to shake John from its tail. John wasn't going to let go; he had to insure the pilot had no opportunity to communicate to the others about the Jumper's presence.

John fired, missed, and followed the Dart in a near-vertical track. He crowded the other ship, forcing it to alter vector, then dropped below and fired again. Missed. His next shot struck the side of the target and it spiraled downward, bound for water. A blast rocked John's Dart and caught him unawares ~ he'd been discovered. He banked in a tight turn, rolled, and fired on the third Dart. His opponent fired, clipped the tail as John rolled again, then John's shot hit its mark and the third Dart exploded.

His ship was losing altitude and John had little steering ability. He was aiming for a water-landing, but knew he was going to be short. He skimmed over tree tops to taper his speed and plowed into flexible, boggy grassland. A Dart passed overhead, releasing its Drones. John climbed out of the sinking craft and ran for water, using Ronon's technique of dancing on roots and trying to find solid ground. Drones were approaching from an angle that would cut him off before he reached the open waterway. John altered his course and headed for the vined region he'd flown over that matched what Ronon had described.

John had always considered Drones to be lumbering oxen, incapable of quick thinking or dexterous movement, but they were coming after him fast. The fourth Dart made a second pass, firing explosive charges indiscriminately. Two of the four Drones went down and John wondered how long it would take them to regenerate. He waded into water, which was dotted with something like lily pads, and hoped the ground beneath him would drop away. At chest-high level he bent into the liquid expanse. He'd taken only two strokes when a Drone grabbed his ankle.

John was tugged backwards. He turned and used the Drone's own arm to swing himself up onto his foe's shoulders. He ripped off the face mask and forced the head underwater while he pulled his knife from his belt. He made a quick jugular jab but was off-balance enough that the cut missed the mark. A second Wraith waded into the water. John launched himself away from the Drones and began swimming for deeper water. The vines and floating greens made his progress slow and the water was still shallow enough the Wraith were coming after him.

The Dart made another pass and John ducked under the surface. The faceless Drone reached for him as he came up for air, but suddenly it dropped out of sight, below the greenery. Arms flailing it howled, grabbing at air, and finally disappeared.

John was treading water and eyeing the second Drone when the Dart returned. A sudden intense barrage of red blasts brought the ship down, nose-first in the swamp. Ronon appeared, running, gun in one hand, sword in the other. He fired on the Drone in front of John and then holstered his blaster. With two hands the big man swung the blade at one of the Wraith that was regenerating. Near-decapitation was not enough; he rolled the body into the soggy root-snarls beneath the trees and shoved the head and shoulders under the surface with his boot. He went after the next Drone before it had begun to move.

A short swim brought John to where his feet could touch the muddy bottom. He waded toward the marshy shore as Ronon approached, re-sheathing his weapon. The man was wet, his dreads dripping onto his shoulders. "Enjoy the swim?" John drawled.

Ronon responded with only a dry look and steady stare. He might have commented, but suddenly Teyla partially appeared above them. More of her became visible as the hatch lowered. Rodney had evidently configured the cloak to cover only the minimum dimensions of the Jumper.

Teyla staggered as the little ship listed under McKay's inexpert piloting skills. "I fear you will have to jump aboard. There is nowhere to land." She smiled ruefully and faltered again.

John noted water was dripping from the rear compartment, running down the ramp, which meant McKay had probably gotten his feet wet when the Jumper slowly sank in the marsh.

Ronon adjusted his gear to free his shoulders, backed up two steps to make a flying leap over water toward the ramp. He grabbed the metal edge and managed to get a leg up in order to hoist himself fully onto the angled door. He climbed unsteadily until he could grasp the doorway to pull himself upright. From his superior position he grinned down at John in the water.

"Tell Sheppard to hurry up," McKay shouted from the cockpit. "The last two Darts are back at the Gate, but that doesn't mean they won't decide to come and investigate."

John lunged from the water and took hold of the ramp's side edge. He struggled to drag his lower half onboard. Teyla hit the control button and the rear hatch began to close, which helped John ease onto the increasingly less-angled surface. He rolled onto his back and tried to summon enough energy to crawl to the pilot seat. "Tell McKay we can go. I'll be there in a minute."

The Jumper began a slow, bumpy lift. John's breathing relaxed...until a pale green hand latched onto the rising hatch and a second pale hand clamped onto John's leg and yanked. John was pulled down the ramp, tearing his palms as he tried to slow his descent. He jerked to a halt when Ronon caught his vest.

"Rodney, stop!" Teyla screamed. She hit the control button to check further closing of the door, then readied her P-90.

"No, go!" Ronon ordered. "Over deeper water!" He held onto John while maintaining a grip on the doorframe.

John was half off the ramp with the Drone hanging from his leg, which meant Ronon was bearing both their weights. John's back was bent at just the wrong angle. He used his free foot to try to kick the Wraith's hand free of his ankle.

Teyla fired her P‑90, her stance unsteady as the Jumper bumped and rolled. She hit the mark with a short burst and the Drone let go, howling until its fall ended with a splash. It bobbed in the water, moving its arms in a chopping motion. It went under once, twice, three four five and finally stayed down.

"What happened?! What's going on?" McKay yelled.

"A Drone played possum in the water after Ronon blasted it," John shouted back, trying to gather his breath. He finally rose and staggered into the cockpit. "I take it sensors are working," he commented as he settled in his seat.

"Yes, but not fully," Rodney answered. "The cloak will barely hide propulsion, which is also curtailed. No communication, limited life support, little steering. I figure you can work your Super-Gene Magic to get the Jumper to do what you want."

"I wanna be outta here before the Queen arrives," John stated.

"You really think a Queen is coming?"

Both Teyla and Ronon responded, "Yes."

"First we gotta go blow up some Darts." John was checking the console to determine the Jumper status. Over his shoulder he directed, "Ronon, get some C4."

McKay had a perplexed expression. "What are we doing?"

"Look. Seven Darts have seen us. Two of the three original Darts were taken out by the Jumper, in atmosphere. Nothing left. Of the four new Darts that saw us, I took out two using the third original Dart, plus another went into water. I'm hoping it sank to a very deep bottom. The fourth new Dart and my original Dart crashed, but they're still accessible." John checked with Ronon. "Ready?" He took Jumper control from McKay and guided the little ship to the Dart Ronon had brought down.

Ronon had bound a few C4 charges together. He leaned out the back of the Jumper and tossed the explosives onto the butt-end of the half-submerged Dart. "Move out of range."

As John slowly distanced the Jumper from the Dart, McKay asked, "What's the point? Just let it sink."

"The point, Rodney, is I don't want the Wraith digging up the Darts' blackboxes. And I'm hoping the C4 will cover traces of the Jumper and its drones or at least confuse the issue." John held steady as Ronon aimed at the Dart. Red light flashed, the Dart exploded and John moved on to the next target.

"It could work," McKay ventured slowly. "If the Drones at the Gate have no knowledge of the Jumper, there'd be no reason for the Wraith to investigate thoroughly. Initial data would just indicate the C4 and Dart blasts. It could work," he repeated just as Ronon blew up the Dart that John had flown. For good measure John headed over to the Jumper's crash site and had Ronon perform a thorough blanket of explosions in the area.

"Everybody ready?" John closed the rear hatch and checked to make certain his team was seated. The Jumper left atmosphere at an angle that would take it close to the Gate. John could feel the additional mental concentration required to guide the ship. Rodney had actually done well without much manual control.

"You're not going to try to get through, are you?" McKay was referring to the difficulty getting past the two Darts parked directly in front of the still-active Gate.

"Rodney, the whole point is to hide the existence of the Jumper and the Daedalus. I'm not gonna fire drones or de-cloak to go through the Gate. Besides, the shield is up in Atlantis and we have no way of telling them to take it down." John made an adjustment on the console. "You can't fix the comms, can you?"

"I've diverted power and reassigned modules from communications and life support to get propulsion, so no, I can't fix communications at this time," McKay answered irritably.

John studied the console and made a mental calculation. Life support at a fraction, limited propulsion. It was gonna be close.

The console beeped. "Detecting hyperspace window!" McKay checked his laptop. "Another window!" He tapped some buttons. A Hive was followed by four Cruisers that emerged almost simultaneously. The Gate reached its limit and shut down. "The Daedalus won't stand a chance," Rodney breathed.

"It's not coming. We're meeting them well beyond sensor range of any Wraith near this planet. And with limited propulsion, that means we're in for a very long trip," John said dryly.

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

Ten hours. The Daedalus had been waiting for almost ten hours. Caldwell had checked back with Atlantis in case there had been further information, but no one had heard anything from Sheppard's team since the initial message. The Jumper should have been able to make the trip from the planet many times over.

While keeping Weir advised of the situation Caldwell had broached the subject of a rescue mission. If the Daedalus left the rendezvous site and returned to Atlantis to ferry some Jumpers back to the planet, those ships could go in, cloaked, for reconnaissance purposes. No more Jumpers would arrive through the Gate and the Daedalus would still stay out of range, as Sheppard had directed. Caldwell stated carefully that if no rescue mission were to be attempted, there would come a time when they would have to assume that Sheppard's team was lost.

Caldwell knew as soon as he uttered the words that he'd made another mistake with Weir. Sheppard had said to wait; Weir would not allow the Daedalus to leave.

On the Daedalus bridge the Atlantis teams were still present, staying in the periphery. Caldwell allowed them to remain since the ship was not engaged in maneuvers. There was something beyond logic or even hope that these people would not give up nor give in. Sheppard had said to wait.

"Sir, we're receiving an S.O.S. from the Jumper."

No one moved, yet Caldwell could feel the collective stare from the Atlantis personnel. "Put it on speaker," he ordered.

"No, I mean it's literally S.O.S. The Jumper suddenly appeared on our sensors, and it's disappearing and re-appearing in Morse Code. Their life support is almost depleted."

Caldwell smiled tightly. "Let's go pick them up."

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

John sat at a long table in the Daedalus mess. His palms were bandaged, which interfered somewhat with the eating process. He'd actually fallen asleep in the infirmary when his arm was being stitched, but after that brief nap and a hot shower, he and his teammates had headed out for a late-night snack.

The table was crowded with Atlantis personnel, the disappointed science and military teams meant to explore the hoped-for Ancient facility. Members of the Daedalus crew filled some seats. Caldwell sat in watchful silence, sipping coffee.

The bare facts of the aborted mission had been told officially. Some parts of the story were re-told. John recognized the same quick interest in aerial dogfights, be it Spitfires or Wraith Darts.

Rodney was talking, of course, giving his account of the adventure. McKay could put away more food faster than anyone John knew and still talk a mile a minute. Putting something into words, even a most terrifying experience, set him at ease.

"So, there I was, working, out in the open, surrounded by Wraith. Teyla was, uh, keeping guard." McKay pointed with a fork. "Once I got the sensors online, at least in a limited capacity, we could see Sheppard and Ronon making for the Dart."

John smiled inwardly. It had taken McKay about fifteen minutes to reconfigure the first systems to be back online.

"Colonel, how did you get rid of the Wraith on the ground?" The question was posed by a Daedalus crewman, who probably had never seen ~ and John hope never would see ~ a Wraith.

"That wasn't my doing." John tilted his head toward Ronon. "Best man for the job. He got 'em all."

"Actually, you guys missed one," Rodney corrected. "When you scooped up Ronon and the pack around him, you missed the Drone that had headed our way when it was released from storage." He paused and swallowed. "Um, Teyla got rid of it."

McKay looked uncomfortable. John knew there were some things the scientist didn't want or need to see. And after watching Ronon in action, John had a pretty good idea of what Teyla had done to be certain a Drone didn't get up after going down. John lightened the mood. "How did you keep him quiet?"

"PowerBars," Teyla smiled. "He does not speak while he is working as long as his mouth is full."

McKay frowned and addressed his audience. "So, I was thinking, why this planet? It's a swamp. If the Wraith knocked out the Daedalus systems, leaving the life support like in the Jumper, they could board and take over, but if anything went wrong, the risk of losing the prize is too high. It doesn't make sense."

"You're losing me, Doc," Lorne said.

John noticed Caldwell never said anything, although he had to be interested in the discourse. Rodney tended to draw out his explanations, for show, and Caldwell didn't strike John as a man of patience. Still, the commander sat quietly and watched.

McKay forked in another mouthful, chewed and swallowed. "We've been assuming the Wraith sent the signal. They're not stupid; they did defeat the Ancients. Why set a trap where they couldn't completely control the situation?"

"You think...?" Zelenka fell silent in thought.

Rodney nodded. "I think there's an Ancient facility on the planet. The signal's real."

"And the Wraith happened to find the signal at the same time we did," John drawled. "And they just happened to be waiting."

Zelenka said thoughtfully, "We could have triggered facility to power up, as we caused the Aurora to wake."

McKay waved his index finger. "And here we come to the other point of my argument." He paused. "Why would the Ancients select this planet?" He paused again and looked at the circle of faces. "It's a soggy, sinking, soaking swamp."

"With snakes," John added.

"Exactly. It's hostile territory for Wraith. Even if they could land the Hive, it might disappear in a sinkhole. It's a perfect way to protect an Ancient outpost. And Wraith can't swim."

Zelenka inserted, "We are using new information from you and Ronon regarding the Drones. Insects can float because surface tension of water. Drones, however... From your description they have no instinct to tread water."

Rodney continued. "It's possible a Hive can land on water. Maybe Queens or Males have the intelligence to swim, but Drones can't exactly be dropped off at the YMCA for lessons."

John said slowly, "The Ancients sank Atlantis because Wraith can't swim? What about protection against enemy fire?"

"Water will not affect every weapon," Zelenka offered.

McKay looked impatient. "Now we go back to our previous thought: the Queen sent a message to an ally before the Hives blew up. The ally now suspects humans from Earth are still in Pegasus. Suddenly this Ancient facility sends a signal. They don't have to look for it. I think the Wraith probably know locations of a lot of Ancient posts. Consider all the battles over territory in the war they eventually won. But," Rodney looked smug, "it doesn't mean those facilities are accessible to them."

"Problem is, Rodney," John spoke, "if you're right and there is an underwater Ancient facility and the Wraith know about it, now they know we know. They're gonna keep tabs on it. They won't make the same mistake again if we decide to come back."

Two steps forward, one back, John thought. Another Ancient mess, cryptically referred to in the Database. Rodney was right; Wraith weren't stupid. Instead of leaving a few Darts at the Gate, they'd leave Cruisers out in space to make certain the Daedalus didn't emerge from hyperspace out beyond a Dart's sensors. At least for now the Wraith were still in the dark about Atlantis.

"We're just glad to you have you back, sir," Lorne smiled. "And after a harrowing adventure." He added dryly, "Ten hours in a Jumper." He finished deadpan, "I can't even imagine."

SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA

Colonel Steven Caldwell shifted his spine into a more comfortable alignment in the command chair. There was a sameness to the routine trips between galaxies, but the bridge of the Daedalus granted a vista that never grew old. Without understanding the science Caldwell still knew what he was observing through the windows dwarfed anything he could ever imagine. On those few occasions when he pondered what he was doing, not from a military or career perspective but the actual fact of how and where his command took him, it still gave him pause.

The layovers in Atlantis were something Caldwell looked forward to on these supply runs. He enjoyed his visits to the Ancient post and the hospitality offered by the city and its personnel. His walks within the Lantean structure were always awe inspiring. And there was potential yet unrealized; Caldwell was not alone in hoping that further exploration of the city would uncover Technology that could assist the SGC in both galaxies.

He had made no secret of his opinion that Sheppard was not of the right temperament to hold the position of commander of so important an outpost. The base's role in Pegasus and its connection to the Milky Way made it too valuable to be run with so lax a military presence. Sheppard was a wild card. Caldwell admitted the man had guts and the luck of the devil, but he also thumbed his nose at protocol and the gravity of the job.

Caldwell reflected on the recent situation. If the Daedalus had ignored Sheppard's message and had approached the planet for the purpose of rescue, in the battle that would have ensued the Daedalus would have been forfeit. And if the Daedalus had left the rendezvous site to bring back help, Sheppard's team would have been stranded without life support. If it had been left solely up to Caldwell, to his own training and experience, how long would he have waited at the appointed coordinates? He didn't know. In Pegasus, beyond logic or hope, he just didn't know.

Caldwell relaxed in his seat. The Daedalus was a good ship and a good command. The missions were straight-forward and usually without incident, however his crew was always prepared for trouble. Caldwell took a breath. He knew he was a good officer and had the respect of his command. What he sensed in Sheppard's people was some additional kind of seat-of-the-pants faith that replaced planning and procedure. He'd never considered that Sheppard might be a good leader. What he'd observed of Lorne's obvious respect made Caldwell re-think his perception.

The Daedalus was on the return trip, two days out from Earth, so Caldwell had had plenty of time to consider that the Ancient city, with its mix of scientists, civilian support crew, and informal military personnel was perhaps best served by John Sheppard's unconventional command. *~*

...

Author's Note: This story was a bear to write. I had one idea in mind (Jumper ambush) and I've always wanted to include Caldwell in a tale. And that's all I had. No ending, which for me means no endpoint for 'aiming' the plot, and no rationale for why the Team would have to warn away the Daedalus.

My own opinion is that Caldwell, through much of S2, still had the idea he might one day be in command of Atlantis. He still subtly demonstrated dismissal of Sheppard's lax attitude regarding military matters (a condescension), but by the time S3 arrived he had figured out Atlantis was not the right post for him - he couldn't force order from civilians and scientists and things worked pretty well under Sheppard's unorthodox leadership. At the time of this story, however, he's still not that far away from almost being in command (Intruder), from taking over when Sheppard was ill (Conversion), and from feeling he has a better approach (and better background) to command such an important outpost.

Just to pose a question: why would a Dart have any communication device if Darts are not long-range ships, Wraith communicate by some mental insect-means, and since Drones don't even speak?

Although this is not a seasonal story, Happy Holidays!

Feedback is always appreciated.

Thanks for reading.


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